


its fine its ok ill die anyways

by SkywardSaint



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Gen, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Pain, Self-Harm, hajime is really trying, i really just. needed to self project bad things to get it out of me, nagito is depressed, ok, this is pure pain, vent fic, vomit warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:07:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkywardSaint/pseuds/SkywardSaint
Summary: sdr2 komaeda vent fic what do you want from meTW: VOMIT, S//LF H//RM, ALCOHOL ABUSE
Relationships: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito
Kudos: 28





	its fine its ok ill die anyways

Nagito lay on the couch of his cottage. He didn’t deserve the comfort of the bed. It’s been a while since the simulation but he can’t help but feel horrible about everything he’s done in the past and in the Neo-World Program. It’s been a few days since he’s eaten anything. No one seemed to notice. He often ignored the worries of the ones who did notice, passing it off as if he wasn’t hungry. It’s true, he didn’t feel the empty pit in his stomach of having no food, but he felt weaker than usual. He was so tired. He draped his mechanical arm over his eyes and huffed. He had no energy to do anything. No motivation. It was pathetic, really. He just feels like a burden to anyone who runs into him. During all this he remembered the pocket knife he always kept on him. His mind suddenly was empty, one thought constantly running through his head.

Do it.

It’s been so long since Nagito even felt the urge to do something like this to himself. He became acutely aware of his one good arm, his palm and wrist feeling uncomfortable and tingly. He hesitantly took out the knife and placed the blade into his palm. He sat there for a while, just holding the blade in his hand with slight pressure. It would be so easy to let the blade just slice his hand open. Let his disgusting blood drain out of him like an animal in a slaughterhouse. That’s a scenario fitting of trash like him. He quickly snapped out of it, pulling the blade away and putting it away before he would go through with that. Though, this reminded him of the many scars on his thighs, two large slashes surrounded by many smaller lines. He felt so disgusting. Why was he like this? He drearily looked outside to see the night sky. He got an idea. He got up, slid his jacket on, and walked into the hotel. He wandered into the kitchen, searching around for something. He found it in a cabinet, buried behind other bottles. He dragged it out and scanned the bottle. Yep, whiskey. Perfect. He put the other bottles back in place and took the whiskey bottle back to his cottage. He was safe from being caught in the cover of the night and he trusted his luck to not be caught. Once he was back in his cottage, he wasted no time opening the bottle. He took one swig, cringing at the strong taste but relaxing at the warmth that bloomed in his stomach shortly after. A swig turned into roughly a shot. A shot turned into a chug. He couldn’t help but laugh, a loopiness clouding his thoughts. He found comfort in the warmth. Bottled comfort. He didn’t need anyone to help him. He finished off the bottle, placed it on the nightstand next to his bed, falling down on the mattress shortly after. A knock sounded at the door. Who wants his presence, let alone at this hour? He stumbled out of bed, opening the door to be greeted by Hajime.

“Haji…?’ Nagito slurred out.

“Hey Nagito, I wanted to ask you s-” he paused, taking a deep breath. “Why do you reek of alcohol?!”

“Don’... Don’ worry ‘bout me.” Nice cover-up, idiot.

Hajime obviously didn’t buy it, glancing past Nagito to look into his room. He noticed the empty bottle.

“Nagito, have you been drinking?!”

“Why do you care! It’s not like I’m a kid anymore…”

“That’s not the issue here! You haven’t been eating, you’re ill, there’s a lot of reasons you shouldn’t do this!”

Nagito opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it and clasped his hands over his mouth. There was a quiet retch in the back of Nagito’s throat, and Hajime stood there a bit confused until everything clicked. Nagito quietly murmured and “Excuse me for a second,” as he slammed the door shut and rushed to the bathroom. He hunched over the toilet, violently throwing up. It hurt. It hurt so much. It was so disgusting. He was disgusting. Of course this would happen. He heard the door open but didn’t have the energy to do anything about it. Hajime slowly walked in, making his way to the pale man in the bathroom.

“D… Don’t look at me Hajime… I’m disgu-” he was cut off by his body deciding to push more out of his stomach, a horrid sound coming out of him as his stomach emptied. Hajime ignored Nagito, instead, kneeling behind him holding his hair back so it wouldn’t get dirty. He could feel how much Nagito was shaking. He let out shuddering breaths as his body lost more and more strength by the second. It felt like there was another wave coming, but anytime his body heaved nothing came out. It hurt so much. Tears were streaming down his face as he quietly sobbed. He was a burden. Hajime shouldn’t have seen him like this. Nothing was going how he wanted. He just wished he’d die right then and there. His mind was foggy, barely processing the voice behind him.

“Are you ok? Do you think it’s over?”

Nagito weakly nodded, his voice gone after throwing up so much. He was all clammy and cold. Why? Why did this happen to him? Why now?

“Ok, then let’s try to clean you up a bit. Can you stand?”

Nagito tried to stand, but he couldn’t even find the strength to move his arms.

“It’s ok if you can’t, just stay here, ok?”

He had no strength to fight back. He just nodded as Hajime stood up, placing Nagito up against the bathtub and then walking over to the sink to wet a cloth. Nagito barely felt conscious. He couldn’t process anything happening. He felt the wet warm cloth wipe his mouth, tilting his head away and groaning at the gentle care.

“Hey, stay still. I’m trying to help out.”

“You shouldn’t...” Nagito croaked out.

“Save your voice. I’m sure it hurts to talk. Let me get you some water, ok? Just… wait here.” Hajime walked out of the cottage to get a glass of water from the hotel, as Nagito sat there alone on the bathroom floor. He let himself fall to the ground, groaning as muted warmth mixed with pain filled every part of his body.

He really is the worst.

That was his last thought before everything went dark, fatigue catching up and capturing him once and for all. He woke up in bed with a wet towel on his head, the smell of food nearby, the distinct taste of vomit no longer in his mouth, and a major headache. He slowly opened his eyes, glancing over to the side of the bed to see Hajime sitting there.

“Morning, Nagito. How are you feeling?”

Nagito simply groaned in response and turned his back to Hajime. He wanted him to leave. He wanted that disgusting food away from him, he didn’t deserve it, he doesn’t need it.

Such a burden. That’s all he was.

He felt a hand gently running through his hair, and while he wanted to be mad, he could bring himself to be mad. The action was relaxing. It wasn’t long before he found himself drifting back to sleep.

Hajime cared. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why. He might never understand, but he allowed himself to feel selfish for once, taking comfort in such a small action.

He just wants to be loved. He just wants to feel wanted.

Only Hajime ever brought him that kind of solace.


End file.
